Ain't No Sunshine
by K Hanna Korossy
Summary: Metamorphosis missing scenes: Mary still has some things to teach her sons.


**Ain't No Sunshine**  
K Hanna Korossy

It was hard to breathe in the car, the air was so heavy with charged silence.

Dean had cracked his window almost immediately, turned the radio on and then off when it only added to the chaos in his head. Sam was scooted about as far to the other end of the seat as he could get, and neither of them was looking at the other, an invisible wall between them. A wall Dean didn't know how to scale.

His hand still ached from punching Sam, twice. He hadn't instantly regretted it like the time he'd hit his brother after Dad died. Sam hadn't deserved it that time, but now… The angels said what Sam was doing was wrong. Dean knew in his gut it was wrong. Worse than that, it was dangerous for Sam himself. But then Sam's face had crumpled, his eyes full as he'd confessed how alone he'd been with Dean gone, how he didn't know what to do, how this had been the only way he could keep fighting. And…Dean got that. The part of him that had made a deal with a demon to bring his dead brother back knew exactly how Sam felt. So how could he…? But… What was he supposed to do now?

He cleared his throat, tapped his thumb on the steering wheel, cracked his neck. Swallowed. "I, uh… I know this is gonna sound crazy, but Castiel—the angel—he sent me on a little trip while you were out with…" He couldn't even speak her name.

Sam didn't say anything, but he was listening, Dean could feel it.

His lips twitched, then his shoulders. He finally gave in with a sigh and let it out in a rush. "He took me back to '73 to meet Mom and Dad."

A beat. "Come again?" Sam said, puzzled.

He was probably looking for some catch, the hidden way Dean was punishing him. And that's not what he… Crap, when had things gotten so messed up between him and Sam? Dean made a face and turned to look at his brother. "Mom. And her parents, the Campbells. I had dinner with them, Sam, talked shop with our grandfather. He was a hunter, too, brought Mom up in the life."

Sam turned to him, apparently forgetting that afternoon in his jaw-dropping astonishment. "Mom?"

"Yup. And Dad, he was gonna buy this mom-mobile until I talked him into the 'pala." He grinned briefly at the memory. "Don't think Mom was too crazy about it, though."

Sam's mouth moved without sound a moment. "And…so, what, you just went back to say hi?"

The grin melted. "No, uh…Yellow Eyes was there. He was making some kinda…deal with folks. I tried to stop him, even got the Colt from Elkins, but I was too late. He killed Mom's folks and…I think he killed Dad, too. Mom made some kinda deal to get him back."

Sam's face creased. "Deal?"

God, there was no easy way to say this. "I'm guessing it was the same deal he was giving everybody else in town—he wanted something ten years later. Not her soul…something else."

Sam blinked, eyes shifting to the side in thought. "Wait, '73…that means…"

Dean nodded reluctantly. "Deal came due the year you were born." He shook his head. "I thought I was there to stop it, you know? To save Mom, maybe Dad. But…Castiel said I can't change the past, I was just there to see how it all got to here."

"To me," Sam clarified, saying it for him.

Dean shrugged uncomfortably, eyes returning to the road. A mile went by, then another.

"I wish I could have met her," Sam said softly. The same tremor in his voice that Dean had heard a few hours before as Sam had struggled to make him understand.

That was the problem, though. He did understand. That's why he'd been so mad at Sam.

It beat being scared to death _for_ Sam.

00000

Jack Montgomery was on a highway to Hell with his foot on the gas. Dean was pretty sure Travis was right and there was no way to change the guy's path now. But for some reason—_Sam_—Dean was sitting there looking for one.

The talk with Jack earlier that day hadn't gone so well. They were going back that evening to stake the guy out because Dean was pretty sure the turning point was near. Sam had sat in tight-lipped silence the whole afternoon, probably feeling all kinds of empathy for the dude, searching frantically for a way to save him. Dean had yelled at him—again—since that seemed to go so well the last two times, and finally ignored him, turning to research of his own. He'd told Sam it was to prove Travis was right about the rugaru lore, but Dean wasn't sure anymore if it was about convincing or corroborating Sam. All he knew was that this was important, for Sam, for them, and he had to do _something_.

There was nothing in their dad's journal about rugarus. Explained why Dean had never heard of them. Maybe Travis had told their dad about his experience with Jack's dad and maybe he hadn't; it was hard to predict with hunters. Anyway, that book would hold no clues.

Under it sat another journal, that of Daniel Elkins. They had snagged it from the dead hunter's home, put it away as a useful reference, but they hadn't consulted it too often since. Every hunter had their own order and classification system. Dean had learned his dad's—mostly—but Elkins' was still a mess of unsorted data to him. He flipped through the pages halfheartedly, not sure if it was worth the time to really study.

The book fell naturally open to a spot near the back where an envelope Dean didn't remember seeing before was tucked inside. An envelope with _Dean_ written on it in a graceful hand, unlike Elkins' bold print.

Dean frowned at it, taking it out. It was sealed, thin, yellowed by a couple of decades. Completely unfamiliar. And yet the writing…

He glanced up at Sam, at his brother's stiff back. He wanted to ask, but the words died unspoken in his mouth. The wall was back between them, and this wasn't worth the effort to break through it. Besides, Dean had a feeling his brother wouldn't know anything about the envelope, either.

Dropping his eyes again, he stared at his name a few seconds more, then pulled out his pocketknife, sliced the top of the envelope neatly open, and drew out the single folded piece of paper within.

_Dear __Dean_, it began.

_I__'__m__ sending __this __back __with __Mr. __Elkins __with __his __gun, __hoping __you__'__ll__ get__ it __and__ read __it __someday. __I__'__m __not __even __sure __why__ I__'__m __writing, __but__…__ I __guess __I __wanted __to __say __thank __you __for __trying. __And __to __try __to __explain._

_ I don't know how much you saw of what happened with John. I told him my dad had flipped out, killed my mom and attacked him before killing himself. I hate that everyone thinks my dad is a murderer, but how was I supposed to tell John the truth? He'd never be able to believe me, even if he tried._

_ The demon killed John. Dad was possessed by that yellow-eyed bastard that was going around making deals, and he broke John's neck. The only way I could save him was to make a deal, too, and I'm sorry, I know it was wrong, but I couldn't not do it, you know? I can't live without him, Dean. I have nothing left without him. _

_ I know you tried to stop the demon, and I'm really grateful for that. Some things are just stronger than we are. But I hope you won't blame me for being weak. John was gone, and I was the only one left, and I had to make the choice. And it was worth it. Whatever the price will be ten years from now, I'm ready to pay it. _

_ I'm sorry if I upset you, talking about how much I hated this life. I didn't mean people like you. I bet your mother, wherever she is, is really proud of you for what you do. I know I would be. _

_ Thank you. I hope we'll meet again someday so I can tell you in person._

_ Mary Campbell_

The name blurred as he read it, and Dean rubbed his eyes clear so he could read it again. She was proud of him. She didn't hate him.

But she was sorry.

_John __was __gone, __and __I __was __the __only __one __left, __and __I __had __to __make __the __choice. _It echoed Sam's words in his head: _You__ were __gone. __I __was __here. __I __had __to __keep __on __fighting __without __you._

Their family was nothing if not full of self-sacrificial, blind, stupid love. Every single one of them had made their own deal with the devil to save those they loved. It was a strength, but also their greatest weakness. Sammy was just keeping with the family tradition.

Dean gulped as he carefully folded the letter back up, tucking it into his inner shirt pocket instead of back into Elkins' journal. He'd find a safer, treasured place for it later. Maybe share it with Sam at some point.

But for now… He glanced over at his brother, seeing the defensive posture, the determined lines of his face, the tenuous control he clung to. In some ways, Sam was still struggling to keep fighting alone.

"Hey," Dean said quietly, waiting until Sam reluctantly looked up. Dean met his eyes squarely, softened his mouth into the closest he could come right now to an apology. "What do you say we go try to save Jack?"

Sam stared at him a moment, then nodded sharply, throat bobbing. The tension in the back of his neck eased as Dean gave it a squeeze on his way out the door.

It wouldn't fix thirty-five years of twisted family history, of losses and angry words and foolish decisions made out of grief and love…but that didn't mean he wouldn't try.

**The End**


End file.
